Chaos in their Wake
by Na'hiel
Summary: When Ginny dies in the Chamber, Harry is sentenced to a period of no less than twenty years in Azkaban. Three years into his sentence, he breaks out with a few friends and a need to make the world suffer the way that he's suffered. HP/BL/SB, also please note the warnings at the top of the story.


Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

 **Warnings: Character death, gore, madness, dub-con given Harry's mental status, underage.**

Chaos in their Wake

"Guilty," they said, one after the other, the words echoing in Harry's ears.

He heard the word over and over again, but he couldn't understand it. Guilty? He hadn't done anything wrong! Surely this was a nightmare of some kind, and he'd wake up soon. It had to be a nightmare, because nothing else made sense.

The wizarding world was supposed to be different. Hogwarts was supposed to be different. People weren't supposed to hate him like the Dursleys had. They were supposed to give him a chance!

"I implore you, my fellow members of the Wizengamot, to deal with this threat to our society early, as we failed to do so many years ago with another, similar threat," a man with long, platinum blonde hair was saying. "Had we dealt harshly with Hagrid many years ago, another student might not have died."

Harry was horrified to see people nodding in agreement. Hagrid hadn't done anything wrong! And, worse, "But I didn't kill Ginny!" He looked around at the faces that surrounded him and saw nothing but anger, nothing like compassion or understanding. "I didn't, please!"

It didn't help. None of the men and women sitting so high above him would so much as look at him. Instead, they spoke about him as though he weren't even in the room. Harry could barely keep up with the conversation.

"Should we give him the Kiss, then?" a man asked, stroking his beard in a way that was reminiscent of the Headmaster.

"Oh, surely not! He's just a boy," a woman protested, but it was a bit halfhearted.

"Who already killed a girl! He doesn't even seem like he's sorry," another woman said. "I was talking to Arthur just the other day and he's absolutely devastated. Dear Molly had to be sedated in St. Mungo's when she found out."

"The Kiss is too easy," a man with thick black hair said. "Let him suffer for preying on the poor girl. Throw him in Azkaban with the rest of his kind."

"But for how many years?" someone else mused. "Really, is there any amount of time that can make up for what he did?"

"Oh, please, it was just one girl," another man said. "It's not like he killed a whole group of them."

"One girl at twelve is an alarming start," the woman who'd spoken to the Weasleys said. "Even He Who Must Not Be Named didn't take his first victim until well after Hogwarts."

"Then throw him through the Veil!" one of the men said, sounding exasperated. "He won't be anybody's problem, then. He'll be dead!"

"No!" the blonde man said. "He needs to suffer for what he's done. He was a hero, once, and he's betrayed that."

"My Lords and Ladies of the Wizengamot," a familiar voice started, cutting through the chatter. Harry would have relaxed, but the Headmaster wouldn't even look at him. His heart dropped when the man said, "We cannot execute a child, no matter how heinous his crime."

"Your suggestion, Albus?" the blonde man asked.

"Azkaban," the Headmaster answered calmly. "For a period of no less than twenty years and no greater than fifty. Surely that should satisfy everyone." He looked around the room as though daring people to object.

Harry stared at him. "I didn't kill anyone," he said again, but quietly because he figured what he said didn't matter anyway.

A vote was taken, and Harry watched in horror as each member of the Wizengamot agreed to his sentence. When the vote had been tallied, not that tallying seemed necessary because nobody argued, Aurors came to take Harry away. He didn't bother to fight because it would do him no good.

It seemed that if this was a nightmare, it was going to be a very long one. Alone in his cell that night, to be transported to whatever Azkaban was the next day, Harry broke down and cried.

ooOOooOOoo

He woke to someone kicking his bed. "Wake up," the man snarled. "You've got a visitor before we put you away."

Harry was jerked to his feet and led, stumbling, down a hallway. He was thrown into a room, then, and forced to sit. Both his arms and his legs were bound, and then the door clicked shut as his guards left. It wasn't long before the door opened again and someone came to sit in the other chair.

It was Ron. He looked tired, with black shadows under his eyes. "They won't listen to me," he said, sounding defeated. "I keep telling them that there's no way you could have done it, but nobody's listening. They say that it all fits, that nobody else could have opened the Chamber. I keep trying, but…" He shook his head. "It's no good."

"I'm surprised that your parents let you come see me," Harry said. "From what people were saying they hate me now." Which wasn't fair at all since he'd never even met them before. Then again, this whole nightmare was unfair.

"I told them that I needed some closure. They don't let children visit Azkaban, so it was now or never." Ron looked away, biting his lip. "Harry, it's going to be awful there."

"It's a prison, right?" Harry asked, a bit uncertainly. Of course it was going to be awful. It was a prison.

"Yeah, but… the Dementors," Ron whispered. He shuddered, a violent motion that shook his whole body. "They'll suck the happiness from you." He glanced up at Harry, then dropped his gaze immediately. "Literally."

Harry flinched. "What are you talking about?" he asked, his voice shaky. Something couldn't literally suck his happiness out. That was impossible, right?

Before Ron could say anything, the door slammed open. "Time's up," one of the Aurors growled.

Harry flinched and Ron stood. "Thanks for letting me visit," he said to the guards. He leaned over, then, and hugged Harry. "I'm sorry," he whispered, then pulled away.

Harry was left alone only for a few minutes, then he was being grabbed roughly once more and jerked to his feet. "Time for you to go, Potter," the nameless Auror said, a wicked smirk on his face. "Best of luck to you where you're going. You'll need it."

Harry said nothing. What could he say? Protesting his innocence had done no good. These people had all made up their minds about him by now.

He was silent on the boat ride, silent when the Aurors took him to his cell and threw him in. Silent when they left, and silent when the things started drifting by. Then, he couldn't have said how long later, he couldn't be silent anymore, and couldn't stop himself from screaming.

He could hear his mother, his father, could see Ginny dying, could feel his sense of self draining away. There were people all around him screaming, crying, begging, and the monsters outside of the cell seemed to feed on it.

Harry gave up and let himself slip away into something like madness.

ooOOooOOoo

There was a hand on his back when he came out of it.

"Thank you, Bella," a raspy male voice was saying.

"Don't you dare thank me," a woman snarled. "I didn't do it for free. You owe me an explanation, you filthy blood traitor."

"There was a prophecy," the man said with a long sigh. "It was either him or the Longbottom boy. One of those two could kill him, or something like that. He went after Harry and sent you for the Longbottoms."

"He did it over a _prophecy_?" Harry heard a snort of disgust. "Of all the ridiculous things. A _prophecy_."

"Lots of people believe in them," the man said. "Not that I'm defending him, of course. He was a madman. But he isn't alone in believing in prophecies."

Harry tried to say something, to make some kind of noise, but all that came out was an awful croak.

"Hey there," the man said. He was gaunt and his skin was pale, like he hadn't seen the sun in years. His hair was tangled and filthy, but his eyes were warm and gentle. "I'm Sirius, Harry. I'm your godfather."

Harry let out a tiny, confused noise. Godfather? He didn't have one of those, did he? And what was he doing here if he did? Maybe they'd killed Harry after all and this was hell. That would make sense. But what was his godfather doing in hell?

Sirius helped him sit up with gentle hands. Harry couldn't remember lying down in the first place, but he'd sort of lost it. He handed Harry a small cup of water. "Sip slowly," he said. "You screamed your throat raw."

Harry did, and as he sipped the water he felt the pain in his throat start to ease. The water also refilled itself as he drank it. Harry made a startled noise when he set the cup down and it was as full as it had been when he started.

"Yeah, they lace the water with some kind of healing draught. They don't want us dying too soon," Sirius said. He nodded at the cup. "Water's the only thing we can have as much of as we'd like."

"Thank you," Harry said. "Why…" Now that he was more aware he was noticing the screaming and the crying and the people banging on their cell doors. He could feel the dread, the anguish, the hurt that he'd felt before but it was far off. Muted. "Why am I not…" Why had it stopped? Why was it better?

Sirius nodded at the wall. "Bellatrix is doing it. She's got her mind shielded and is… extending the shielding to you. I had to give her some information that I would have preferred not to, but…" He shrugged. "I'd rather do that than have you go mad."

"Thank you," Harry said again, pathetically grateful. Then, louder, he called, "And thank you, Ms. Bellatrix."

A sound of utter disgust from the other cell was the only answer he received.

"Harry, what are you doing in here?" Sirius asked suddenly. "I thought the guards were just fucking with me when they said you were here. You're only thirteen if I've got my ages right, and they don't send kids to Azkaban. Then I started hearing it from other prisoners, too. What happened?"

Harry shuddered. "Ginny," he said helplessly. Had he already turned thirteen? He didn't remember. It was so hard to focus, even with the wall between him and everything else. "She… she was killed, and everyone said that I did it. Because I'm a Parselmouth, because I was there, because Voldemort couldn't have come out of a book just to kill a little girl, no matter how light her family was."

"So Lucius finally used the diary," Bellatrix said from the other cell. She sounded pleased.

"What are you talking about?" Sirius asked.

"Doesn't matter," she answered. "But my Lord will come for me soon. He won't look kindly on my helping his killer, no matter how foolish it was for him to pursue a prophecy."

Harry felt the wall begin to fade away, crumbling to dust like an ancient ruin. The pain, the fear, the hurt started to creep back in and he let out a tiny, broken noise.

"Bellatrix, no, please," Sirius begged. "He's just a kid! A baby! He's not like the rest of us, he doesn't have any kind of training! He'll break!"

"Not my problem, cousin," she sneered.

The wall crumbled all the way and the madness came rushing back. Harry screamed, and then he couldn't stop.

ooOOooOOoo

hurt and pain and hate hate hate hate and

we'll get them back harry i swear

didn't do it hadn't done it didn't anyone care why what had he done to deserve this he hadn't done anything it wasn't his fault

i know harry i know i'm sorry they're awful we'll make them pay

siri siri siri siri only one who cares only one safe will BURN them all hate hate hate hate

we will harry i promise you we will don't deserve this good boy i love you good boy please

siri siri siri siri siri siri siri siri siri

ooOOooOOoo

Silence fell.

"He's not coming," black and angry and mean was saying.

"You don't know that." Siri! Arms warm and strong and tight around him.

He was strange. Too tall, stretched out. Too tall too long too strange. NO!

"It's been three years, Sirius," she the bitch the witch the awful cruel heartless she said. "He's not coming."

Three years?

"Yeah, pup," Siri whispered. "Three years. I've been here as much as I could, but…" warm strong arms tightened.

Harry crooned and nestled closer. Siri. Always better with Siri. Loved Siri.

"Love you too, pup." Siri's breath stirred his hair.

Harry hummed. He liked that. Siri. Should always stay. Always.

Siri laughed. Warm and soft and _wonderful_. "I can't always stay, pup. The guards would notice if I wasn't in my own cell."

"You should get him out, Sirius," angry cruel bitch said. "I'm blocking them again. I should have started sooner, I just…" She let out a small sigh. "I wanted to think he would come for me, you know? And I couldn't… if he did, I couldn't be helping his enemy."

"I know, Bella," Siri said. "And I should."

"Soon," she said. Bella. Bella. Bella. Pretty name. Still a bitch. "My block isn't going to do much for him. I let it go too long. He's not… he might never be okay again."

"Come with us," Siri said, urgent. Eager. Needy. "My plan will work as well for three as it will for two. And as I recall, you were always very good at making mayhem."

Bella laughed. High and cold and cruel. "Yes," she said.

Burn burn burn burn burn burn burn everything would BURN.

"Yes, love," Siri said. "Everything will burn."

Yes.

"Sleep for me, then," Siri whispered. Warm and soft and welcoming and gentle and eyes heavy and can't say no not to Siri.

Blackness.

ooOOooOOoo

dark and cold and quiet and fear and hurt and

Harry woke up screaming. Siri was there with him, sitting next to his bed. There was a slumped body on the ground at the foot of the bed broken and bloody and Harry could feel his breathing coming faster and faster and-

"It's okay," Siri breathed. He reached out and stroked Harry's hair with gentle hands that shook a bit. "How are you feeling?"

"Better," Harry rasped. Better? Better than what? He hurt he ached he wanted to curl up in the cold bed and cry but he couldn't because because why? Why couldn't he? He deserved to be able to cry if he wanted.

"I'm glad," Siri said. There was so much relief in his voice that it almost made Harry cry. "The mind healer did some nice work with you. I was sure that you wouldn't recover."

"Did he recover, though?" The bitch.

No. Harry shook his head. Bella. That was her name. "You shielded me," he said to her, because that was just about all he knew about her. His body still felt too big for him, but it was better than it had been. He almost felt normal.

If normal included a desperate desire to watch the world burn, he supposed.

"Too late to do much good for you," Bella said. She was leaning against the wall on the opposite side of the room, staring down at the crumpled figure on the floor. "I'd apologize, but I'm not really that sorry."

Harry closed his eyes and was suddenly back in the cell cold and hungry and hurting and hearing all the screaming and it was his fault his fault he couldn't save her he was wrong bad no good hurt hurt pain needed out no

siri siri siri sirisirisiri

"I'm here, pup, it's okay," Siri was whispering to him, rocking him, stroking gentle hands down his back and soothing him.

Harry drew in a great, heaving gasp and tried not to faint. He was tired but closing his eyes was terrible because it took him back to that place and he didn't want to go back to that place please siri, please

"You don't have to go back," siri said. "Bella and I, we're going to tear the place to the ground. Burn the world to the ground. All for you."

The words felt heavy, but the heaviness felt wonderful. Harry sighed. Burn the world to the ground. Yes. That was what it needed. To be cleansed because it was filthy.

"So dirty," Siri said. "Sending my precious godson to live in that filth."

"We'll ruin them," Bella said with a gleeful little laugh. "Don't worry, Harry. We'll make them pay for you."

"Bella's the best at making people pay," Siri said. He pressed dry, chapped lips to Harry's forehead, and Harry leaned into the touch. Warm. Tender. Not cold and hard and awful.

He sighed. "Blonde man," he said quietly. "Wanted to see me hurt. Was so happy when I went away. The Headmaster was so angry with me."

"Lucius," Bella said, the word coming out in a gleeful hiss. "Of course he'd have his pretty little pristine fingers in this. I'm going to enjoy having my way with him."

"We have to get to him first," Siri said. "It won't be easy. They're looking everywhere for us."

Bella laughed. "Won't find us. You've got the wards up, right?"

"What do you take me for, an amateur? I've got the blood wards up. Nobody gets in or out but family." Siri let out a bark of laughter. "And you know how happy Kreacher would be to help us on our mission."

"Not if we're going after Lucius," Bella said.

Harry didn't really understand what they were talking about, so he tuned them out. Instead he focused on the lump on the floor. There was a viscous red liquid surrounding it and he studied it with his head cocked to one side. Then he slipped out of the bed and padded over to poke it. It clung to his fingers, cold and sticky. He poked it again and again, watching as it clung to itself when he pulled his fingers slowly away.

"Harry, darling, don't play in the blood," Siri said.

"Is it alive?" Harry asked. He stared at the lump of meat in front of him. He didn't think it was.

"Huh?" Siri wrapped his arms around Harry and tugged him back from the lump. "No. He's not. Kreacher!"

Something popped into the room and Harry stared at it. It was familiar. Like the strange thing that had tried to warn him to stay away from Hogwarts… a "House elf!"

"Master Sirius wishes Kreacher to do something?" the surly little thing said.

"Clean that up for us, will you? And bring me something to clean Harry's hands off with. He was playing in the blood."

"Of course." The little thing popped away with the corpse and most of the blood. Seconds later he returned with a bowl of water and a cloth. "Does Master Sirius require anything else?"

"Now that Harry's awake, I think we'd like to start eating meals in the kitchen. We'd like to have something like a normal family experience for him."

The house elf bowed and disappeared again. "Why?" Harry asked.

"Because the healer thought that regular activities would help you recover," Bella said. She snorted, then laughed. "I don't think they really understand to do with people that have spent so much time in Azkaban."

"Most people don't get out after life sentences," Siri said. "Come here, Harry."

Harry did so, obedient. He settled on the bed and extended his hands when Siri asked him to. His Siri ran the warm cloth over his fingers and he giggled and ducked away from the sensation. He didn't pull his hands away, though, and soon it was over and his hands were cold. So he darted forward and buried them in the fabric of Siri's robes. He closed his eyes and nestled closer to the man. Warm. Safe. Siri.

Thin arms curled around him and one of those soft gentle warm hands started stroking his hair again. Harry sighed. This was nice.

"This is disgusting," Bella muttered. "You two are going to make me sick."

Harry pulled away from Siri. "Want a hug?" he offered the witch. He left the bed and stood in front of her, his arms open.

"Don't be ridiculous," Bella said. She looked away.

"Bitch," Harry muttered. He leaned forward and hugged her anyway. She didn't fight the embrace and Harry pulled back with a grin.

"Whatever, brat," Bella muttered. She ran a quick hand through his hair. "Go back to your mutt. I have some things to look into. Some contacts that might be able to get us more information about the state of the world."

Harry returned to the bed and to Siri, and when he closed his eyes with Siri holding him he wasn't back in the dark scary place so he slept.

ooOOooOOoo

Time passed. Harry improved. His body felt like his body again, and he realized how much he'd lost by being held in Azkaban. The world had changed while he'd been imprisoned. Things were more dangerous now. Most of his childhood friends were dead now. Accidents at Hogwarts or attacks from Death Eaters. The newspapers told grim stories, grim enough that their escape from Azkaban was barely even noted.

The world was already on fire.

"I still want it to burn," Harry said. "All of it."

He'd been out for three months now. Siri and Bella taught him to use his new wand and he learned the sorts of spells he would never have learned at Hogwarts. He learned how to make people bleed and scream and beg for a mercy that he didn't have anymore. He learned to make potions that hurt even more. Siri learned some with him, and taught him some too. Bella already knew it all.

"And it will," Siri said. They were sitting at the kitchen table and Harry was stirring his eggs with his fork. Siri took a sip of his coffee. "We'll burn it all and start over again. We just need a place to start." He reached out and patted Harry's hand. "Eat your eggs please."

Harry wrinkled his nose. They tasted funny. Everything tasted funny. Nothing tasted right after so long in that place.

"I have a place," Bella said suddenly. She leaned over and tapped the paper, touching an article that Harry couldn't see. "What about there?"

Siri let out a barking laugh. "The Malfoy family's wards would be relaxed for that, wouldn't they? Have to be, to have so many very important people over." His smile was vicious. "What do you say, Harry? Want to crash a Christmas party?"

Harry let out a small giggle. "Will there be blood?"

"After we're through." Siri shrugged. "There'll probably be not much left other than blood."

"'kay," Harry said. He turned his attention back to his eggs. They still tasted funny. But Siri had asked, so he forced himself to eat them again. Then he wrinkled his nose and dropped his fork. "Siri, they're gross!"

Bella sighed, leaned over, and tapped him on the nose. "Listen brat, if you eat the damn eggs, I'll teach you how to turn someone inside out while they're still alive."

Harry's eyes lit up. "Okay!" He ate the eggs, and the spell was one of the most fun ones he'd learned yet.

He loved it even more when he went to Privet Drive towards the start of December and got to try it out on someone living. His Aunt screamed terribly, but not as terribly as Dudley did under the Cruciatus curse, and her voice gave out long before her husband's did.

ooOOooOOoo

The party was in full swing when they Apparated into the middle of it.

Everything went silent and still, then chaos reigned. Harry laughed and laughed and laughed when he used his pretty little wand to make pretty bursts of colors like red and green and an angry sullen purple that left chaos in its wake. The room was an explosion of color the likes of which he'd never seen and none of them could touch him and it was wonderful.

In the end, he was the only one standing other than Bella and Siri. And… "Ron," he breathed. The redhead was in the middle of the ballroom floor, his hands covering his eyes, his whole body trembling. He was spattered with blood, his fine clothes in tatters.

"Thought you'd want to deal with that one yourself," Bella said. She stood next to him, one arm around him, her wand pointed at his temple. "Siri has Lucius set aside for you, too," she added with a nod to Siri, who stood behind Harry.

Harry turned and grinned. The blonde who'd been so eager to see him put away, still and unconscious and levitating on the tip of Siri's wand. "He'll be fun," he breathed.

"Harry?"

Harry spun back around. Ron was staring at him, his eyes wide in shock. "Hi, Ron." His friend. The one person who'd believed him.

"You're…" He stopped, cleared his throat and looked away, his face going a bit green. "You're with them."

"The wizarding world is a mess, Ron," Harry said, his voice light and gentle. "Look around you. How many of these people have done horrible things? I'm just cleaning up the trash."

Ron looked down at something, then shuddered and looked up to meet Harry's eyes. "No, Harry," he said. He tried to step forward and, at a nod from harry, Bella let him do so. "You're not cleaning up anything. You're doing terrible things to people that didn't deserve to be hurt."

"They hurt me, though," Harry said. Each word that Ron spoke cut into him. They hurt. He wanted his friend to stay with him.

"Yeah, but not everybody here was responsible for that," Ron tried. He took another step forward. "Look, Harry, I know that you're upset and that you're hurt, but you need help. This wasn't okay." He took another step forward so that he was almost toe to toe with Harry.

"Why were you here?" Harry asked suddenly. He didn't remember much, but he remembered that Ron had hated the Malfoys. So why was he at their Christmas party? Yule party. Whatever party.

Ron flushed. "That has nothing to do with anything."

"Why were you here?" Harry asked again. He looked around the room. There was another redhead on the floor. Molly. The mother. She was dead. Poor thing. Her blood was almost as red as her hair. It looked nice, staining her dress.

"I was here with Draco," Ron said, the words coming out through gritted teeth. "But Harry, that's not the point. The point is that you killed everyone in this room, and that's not okay!"

"You were here with the son of the man who probably framed me?" Harry's head fell to one side as he studied the other boy who had been his first friend. "Why, Ron?"

"Because Draco wasn't his father, and after you were gone he changed. And now he's…" Ron looked at the ground again and went a bit greener.

This time Harry followed his gaze. Draco was dead. Pretty blonde who's hair now matched Ron's. Harry giggled at the sight. "I should wake Lucius here so that he can see his spawn's corpse," he said.

"Ooh, I like it," Bella said from across the room. She was fiddling with something, Harry couldn't see what and he honestly didn't care.

"It's pretty harsh," Siri said. "But it'll get him right where it hurts. A pureblood hates to see their line end."

"Are you-" Ron laughed incredulously. "Are you even listening to yourself? What's wrong with you, Harry?"

Harry's lips curled into a snarl. "I spent three years in that hellhole for something I didn't even do," he hissed at Ron. He advanced on his friend, drawing his wand. His former friend. He had no friends here save for Siri and Bella. "Three years, and the only company I had was my godfather who never even got a trial, Ron. The world is broken, and we're going to fix it!"

"You can't just kill everyone to fix the world!" Ron exploded. He drew his wand.

Harry cut off his hand with a flick of his wrist, and the wand and hand went flying. Ron screamed. "I can't?" Harry asked. "I can try." Then green light bloomed from his wand and Ron was dead on the floor, almost on top of the pretty little blonde boy he'd been so upset about. Fitting.

He turned back to Siri. "Wake him up. I'd like to turn him inside out."

"Of course," Siri said.

The first thing Lucius saw upon opening his eyes was his son's corpse, pressed obscenely against him. He screamed, then screamed even more when he was turned slowly inside out by the child he'd seen imprisoned three years ago. He begged and pleaded but nothing he said did any good, and then he screamed some more when he was turned rightside out once more.

Bella laughed at him and Harry laughed with her, then he let her have him until he was a drooling wreck who would never recover no matter how many mind healers he went through. Then they left, just as the Aurors were arriving.

They killed them on their way out. Well. Most of them, anyway. Somebody had to live to tell the story.

ooOOooOOoo

Harry woke to the sound of screaming. Bella, screaming. Screaming and begging and Harry didn't like to hear her scream like that, even if she was still a bitch some of the time. Harry slid out of bed. Nightmares were awful, awful always awful, but better to share. Better to have the nightmares when someone else was there, even if Bella was mean and cold and cruel sometimes.

Her room, though, was empty. Had she fallen asleep on the couch? Harry could understand that. He fell asleep on the couch too sometimes, especially when Siri was there. It was easier to sleep when Siri was around. Easier to sleep when Bella was around. The nightmares were always better when someone warm was there.

The screams weren't coming from downstairs, though. Harry crept along the hallway until he found Siri's room. That's where the sounds were coming from. He could hear Siri making noises too, and wondered if they were having nightmares together.

Harry opened the door. They were writhing together, Siri on top of Bella, Bella clutching at Siri, and neither one of them were wearing clothes. Why? What were they doing? Harry crept closer as they both let out hoarse cries and stilled, until he was staring down at the bed, down at Siri and Bella.

Bella's eyes opened and she blinked up at Harry. "Nightmare?" she asked, her voice hoarse from the screams. Her lips were curled into a grin, though, and Harry wondered why he felt hot inside at the sight of her hand running down Siri's naked back.

Then Siri rolled off of Bella and Harry's breath left him in a small noise. He felt hot, too hot, like he was burning up inside. Siri looked so happy, and so did Bella. He wanted to be happy like that.

"You were screaming," Harry said. "I was worried. You shouldn't scream. It's not pretty like when other people scream."

Siri sat up. "Harry, sweetheart, adults… well, sometimes…" He stopped talking and took a deep breath. "You should go back to bed and we'll talk about it in the morning."

"Aww, come on, Siri, isn't a little hands-on learning best?" Bella asked, her eyes light with something like mischief.

"Bellatrix!" Siri snapped.

Harry flinched. Siri was angry. Siri shouldn't be angry. "Sorry," he offered. "I was worried," he said again, the words coming out more plaintive than anything else. He was confused. What had they been doing, anyway?

"What, Sirius?" Bella shot back, emphasizing every syllable of Siri's name. Harry hated it when they fought, and it looked like they were going to fight now. He backed away from the bed, the heat inside of him fading. "Who else is going to teach him about this?"

"Yes, but there are ways of teaching him that don't involve-" Siri cut off suddenly and looked at Harry.

Harry flinched to feel the weight of Siri's gaze on him and backed up further. He tripped over something and continued scooting back, making himself as tiny as possible. "Sorry sorry sorry," he babbled. "Sorry."

"Harry, no," Siri said. He slid out of bed, heedless of his nudity, and knelt in front of Harry. "Please don't be upset. This isn't your fault." He reached out and tugged Harry into his arms.

Harry went willingly. Siri's arms were the safest place he knew. "Love Siri," he whispered into Siri's neck, shivering as the heat came back, blooming inside of him again like it had never gone away. It was warm and wonderful and hungry, and Harry didn't know what to do about it. He squirmed uncomfortably in Siri's hold.

"He wants you, Siri," Bella said, her voice a low croon. "There's nothing wrong with it. Who else knows him like you do? Who else would take care of him like you will?"

Siri shuddered, his arms spasming around Harry. "Do you want me, Harry?" he asked, his voice husky and deeper than normal.

Harry didn't understand why he was asking, but he always wanted Siri. "Always want Siri," he said. "Love Siri."

Siri tilted his head up, then, and stared into his eyes. Harry stilled in his hold. "Yeah," Siri said, his voice shaking ever so slightly. "Let me teach you about what Bella and I were doing." He leaned down, then, hand still holding Harry's face still, and pressed his lips to Harry's.

Harry's lips parted with a small gasp and Siri's lips moved with his, dancing against him. It felt good, making the warmth and the hunger inside of him even worse. But that was okay, because Siri showed him how to deal with that, and taught him many fun things that night with Bella's help.

It was a good night, and when Harry slept there were no nightmares.

ooOOooOOoo

Harry was curled up on the couch with Bella when Siri stormed into the living room, a piece of parchment in his hand. "That fucker!" he snarled, throwing the parchment at Bella.

Bella didn't answer, but did pick it up and read it. She set it down, then let out a small giggle that turned into a cackle. "He wants to meet with the aspiring Dark Lord!" she said through her laughter. "Oh that's rich!"

"We're not allying with that monster!" Siri snarled. "He killed James and Lily! He left you to rot in Azkaban! There's no way that we're working with him."

Harry didn't know what they were arguing about, but he didn't care either. He slid off the couch and went to Siri, pressing himself against him and curling his arms around his waist. He leaned into Siri with a small, happy sigh. Siri's hand tangled in his hair almost absently and Harry hummed at the contact.

"Well, of course we're not," Bella said with a snort. "Like you said, he left me to rot. And, it probably doesn't help that he likely still wants our Harry dead."

Harry twitched at that. "But I like being alive," he protested. "Can we kill him instead?"

Siri let out a barking laugh. "Yes! Yes yes yes, Harry, yes, please! Bella?" When Harry glanced up, his Siri was staring at Bella with a strange light in his eyes.

Bella's grin was toothy. Like a shark's grin. "Yes, of course," she said, her grin softening into something almost indulgent. "Let me write to him and see if we can't set up a meeting."

Whatever Bella said in the letter she wrote must have been compelling, because the writer showed up only a handful of days later with a small group of people wearing strange masks. Harry didn't like them. They were creepy and looked like the monsters from Azkaban. Dementors. He shuddered at the sight of them, and at the sight of the noseless, red-eyed man that demanded that Bella bow before him.

Harry didn't like that at all. He liked it much better when the noseless one was inside out and screaming in pain, and liked it best of all when the house was silent again because everyone who wasn't his Siri or his Bella was dead.

ooOOooOOoo

"I want to go home," Harry said suddenly from his warm cocoon made up of his Siri and his Bella, curled up on the bed in Siri's room.

Siri made a small noise. "We are home, Harry," he said. He leaned down and kissed Harry's lips, soft and sweet.

"No." Harry shook his head. The house was nice, Kreacher was nice, but this wasn't home. "Hogwarts is home." It had been safe before everything bad had happened. He'd liked Hogwarts. He wanted to go back.

"Dumbledore's still holed up there," Bella said. "It's one of the few safe places left. We could take it though." She was stroking Harry's hair, idly playing with the strands of it.

"I don't know," Siri said slowly. "Hogwarts has a lot of old protections around it. It would be dangerous."

"He put me in Azkaban. Twenty years, he said. He wanted me to stay there for twenty years, Siri." Harry whined at the thought. He was broken, he knew he was broken, he couldn't imagine what he would have been if he'd stayed in Azkaban for twenty years. The three he'd spent there had been hell enough.

"He didn't give you a trial," Bella pointed out. "He was head of the Wizengamot. He had a duty to you, and to who knows who else. It would only be fair."

"I wasn't arguing that we shouldn't kill him," Siri said with a small growl. "I was just saying I don't know that taking Hogwarts is the way to go."

"Take their hearts," Harry breathed, warming to the plan. "Take their children. Teach them that the world is terrible. Make them hurt like we hurt." The stones would be oh so pretty covered in the blood of the students, what few remained after the snake-man's assaults, Harry just knew it. He wanted his home back.

"We did promise to burn the world for him," Bella said. She let out a mad cackle, the kind of cackle Harry liked to hear because it meant that people were about to be hurt. "C'mon, Siri, let's go have some fun."

Siri hesitated, then shrugged. He slid out of bed. "Yeah, okay, let's go. No time like the present."

Sneaking into Hogwarts itself was laughably easy. There was a tunnel underneath a store that Siri got them into that led right into the school. From there it wasn't long at all until Dumbledore found them, along with what remained of his staff. The teachers were quickly eliminated, then all that was left was the Headmaster, who stared with mournful eyes at Harry, bound and held silent through magic.

Harry considered him, then waved his wand to let him speak. "Stop staring at me like that, old man," he hissed.

"Harry, my dear boy, I'm so very sad to see what's become of you." He looked at Siri, then at Bella, then back at Harry. "Please, won't you let me take you to a Mind Healer?"

"It's your fault," Harry said, wrinkling his nose at the Headmaster. "Why would I trust you? You told them twenty years," he said plaintively. Maybe letting him talk had been a mistake. He didn't want to hear anything the old man had to say.

"At the time it was all that I could do," the Headmaster said. "They wanted to give you the Kiss, Harry. They wanted to kill you."

Harry backed up a step and raised his wand. It shook. He wanted to see the Headmaster hurt like he'd hurt, but when he opened his mouth to speak he couldn't get the words out. He was tired. He wanted this to be done.

"Bella?" he asked, his voice tiny.

"What is it, Harry-love?" Bella was there with him, and Siri too.

"Make him hurt for me." Harry didn't think he could do it. "I want to hear him scream."

The Headmaster's screams were like music, until he couldn't scream anymore. Then he was dead, and Harry sagged against Siri like a puppet whose strings were cut. "We're home, Siri."

"If you'd like it to be," Siri said immediately. "Then yes. We're home."

By the time morning dawned, Harry and Bella and Siri proved that Harry had been right. The stones of the castle were lovely when painted with blood. Hogwarts was theirs to do with as they pleased, not another living soul other than the house elves left in the building, and most of them were gone too.

It took only a few days for Harry to grow restless in his new home, however, and no amount of playing with Siri and Bella could make it stop. "What now?" Harry asked, his wand hand itching to make music once more. "I want to hear some screaming."

Bella cast a _tempus_ , noting the date. Siri grinned when he saw it. "There's a Ministry function tomorrow that we could go disrupt," he said cheerfully.

Harry perked up. That sounded like fun. He was definitely up for more chaos. "Can we?"

"Of course we can," Bella said, and dropped a kiss on his forehead.

The chaos they left in their wake the next day was a true thing of beauty. It was too bad that so few people survived long enough to truly appreciate it.


End file.
